


The World Begins Again

by Spikedluv



Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Ending, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past few months had been the worst time of Nick’s life since Helen’s disappearance all those years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Begins Again

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate ending to 1.06. I’ve wanted to write a Primeval fic since watching the eps on BBCA over the summer, but was always afraid to dip my toes into the fandom. I’ve had several ideas to fix the both the season one and season two finales (because they desperately ~need fixing), and eventually even started writing one of them down. Then I re-watched 2.01 and the bit in the parking garage where Stephen asked Nick (and I paraphrase) why all the changes were particular to Nick, stuck with me, and I thought, yeah, why is that? This is my answer to that question.
> 
> Title taken from the Goo Goo Dolls’ song, Better Days.
> 
> Written: April 2, 2009

The past few months had been the worst time of Nick’s life since Helen’s disappearance all those years ago. The discovery that Stephen had slept with Helen and lied to him for years; the distance that Nick had allowed to grow between them until Stephen had no longer felt like a part of Nick’s team, much less his friend; Stephen’s apparent alliance with Helen; and then Stephen’s ultimate sacrifice.

Stephen’s death had saved them all, but Nick knew deep in his gut that Stephen had done it so that Nick wouldn’t have to. To keep Nick alive. To make amends.

Nick wished he could tell Stephen that he’d been a bloody fool, but it was too late for that. Now all he had left were regrets and ‘what might have been’s.

Nick thought he might have been able to get over Stephen’s death a lot quicker (and without the use of whisky and the resulting hangover that seemed to be his constant companion these days), if he could just stop hearing Stephen’s voice all the time.

At first Nick couldn’t make out any words, just the familiar, comforting pitch of Stephen’s voice washing over him. As time went on, he was able to make out actual words. Sometimes it sounded like Stephen was reading to him; a memory, perhaps, of nights spent grading papers and sharing aloud the most outlandish of the theories their students had come up with.

Other times Nick heard Stephen asking the same question he’d asked months ago, and to which Nick, scared and lost from being thrust into this new time line, had said he just didn’t have the answer yet -- why all the changes in the new time line were personal to Nick, and relatively small in the scheme of things. But Nick didn’t know if that was Stephen asking the question again, or Nick finally asking it of himself.

Nick listed the changes in his mind: Stephen’s betrayal, the disappearance of Claudia Brown, the fact that they no longer worked at the University, the length of time they’d known about the anomalies, and running their operation out of the ARC rather the Home Office.

It made Nick wonder now, when before he’d been so quick to dismiss it. Though, to be fair, he’d had quite a shock at the time and was still reeling from the altered circumstances in which he’d found himself. Why _were_ all the changes so close to Nick personally? Why hadn’t there been a change in the UK’s boundaries, for instance, or their government; in their alliances, or the wars they’d fought?

Despite that question hanging over his head, Nick went on with his life. As much as he could, anyway. Missing Stephen, chasing the creatures that came through the anomalies, hearing Stephen’s voice in his head, and using whisky to get him through it all.

He wasn’t stupid enough to ask if anyone else heard Stephen’s voice. They’d had a difficult enough time accepting his odd behavior after he and Helen came back through the anomaly the day everything changed, there was no need to make them doubt his sanity again.

Even more time went by and Stephen’s voice changed. He sounded angry now. Angry at Nick? Maybe a little bit scared. He said things like, “Damn it, Cutter, they said you could hear us, but I’m not sure I believe that anymore,” and “Wake up, damn you!”

Then one day Stephen sounded sad and lost, and Nick felt Stephen take his hand, felt the damp tears as Stephen pressed Nick’s hand to his face and said, “Damn you, Nick, I love you, please come back.”

The surprise of it stopped Nick’s heart.

Then there was beeping and yelling and pain. So much pain!

And then blessed nothing.

When Nick woke up he was still hung over. Or thought he was, until he slitted his eyes open enough to realize that he wasn’t in his own bed, but rather a hospital room, and that the beeping he heard was the monitors, not his alarm clock telling him that no matter how poorly he felt it was time to crawl out of bed and drag himself into the shower so he could head to the university where his poor head could be pounded upon some more by his students’ ridiculous theories.

The next time Nick woke up, it was just long enough to realize that the weight pressed against his hip was Stephen’s head. He barely had time to think that Stephen shouldn’t be there because Stephen was dead before darkness took him again.

The third time Nick woke up, Stephen sat hunched over the bed, head bowed, Nick’s hand held tightly in his.

Nick tried to speak, but his throat and mouth were too dry. Still, he must have made some sound or movement, because Stephen’s head shot up and red-rimmed eyes stared back at Nick from a pale face. Stephen gently placed Nick’s hand on the blankets and Nick felt bereft. He tried to lift his hand and grab back hold of Stephen’s, afraid that Stephen was leaving, and already having had enough of life without Stephen in it, but he was too weak.

Thankfully, Stephen moved away only far enough to reach a pink plastic cup, and then he carefully spooned an ice chip into Nick’s mouth, then another. The cool moisture as the ice chip melted felt wonderful in Nick’s mouth, going down his throat, and Stephen patiently spooned them onto his tongue until Nick indicated he’d had enough.

It seemed like forever that they sat staring at each other, until Stephen shook himself and said, “I need to let the doctor know you’re awake.”

“Wait,” Nick said, lifting his hand.

Stephen looked at Nick’s hand as if it might bite, despite the fact that he’d been holding it earlier, then reached out slowly and took it. Nick curled his fingers weakly around Stephen’s. He had thought that he’d never see Stephen again, and there he was. Nick had to know.

His voice raspy from disuse, Nick asked, “What happened?”

“You were hurt,” Stephen said, then paused to swallow, as if just saying the words was difficult for him. “Badly. You fell getting away from the future creature and hit your head. Ryan couldn’t get to you until he’d eliminated the threat, and it took a while because the creature was so damned quick. He had to carry you back through the anomaly. Helen . . . Helen didn’t come back through, Nick, I’m sorry.”

Nick was surprised at Stephen’s words. Not his injury, or the fact that Helen may not have made it (though she’d shown a remarkable ability for survival), but, “Ryan? Ryan’s alive?”

Stephen leaned forward, as if to reassure Nick. “Yes, of course. He’s fine. He lost some of his men to the creature, though.”

“And Claudia? Claudia Brown?”

Stephen frowned in confusion. “She’s fine. Why wouldn’t she be?”

Nick shook his head, trying to clear his fractured memory. “No reason, I guess. M’ mind’s all muddled.”

Stephen tried to smile. “Well, that’s understandable. You’ve been in a coma for two weeks. It was touch and go there for a while.”

“Two weeks?” Nick said, remembering the nightmarish months he’d lived while apparently in the coma. “Seemed like longer.”

“You’re telling me,” Stephen said, and then blushed and turned away when Nick looked at him. He carefully placed Nick’s hand back onto the blanket. “Let me get the doctor.”

“You’re coming back, though?” Nick asked, afraid that Stephen would disappear once he walked through that door, and Nick would be stuck in that nightmare forever.

Stephen hesitated, then looked back over his shoulder at Nick. “If you want.”

“I do.”

“Okay, then.”

Unable to leave well enough alone, and having a sense that it might be now or never, Nick said, “Did you mean it?”

Stephen froze, one hand on the door handle, his deep sigh telling Nick that he’d been so close to a perceived escape. Finally he said, head lowered so that it appeared he was speaking to the door, “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Nick nodded; to himself, because Stephen was still looking at the floor. He knew that Stephen had only finally allowed himself to say the words because Nick was in a coma, possibly dying, and Stephen was desperate, but the fact of the matter was, he _had_ heard, and he had no intention of forgetting them.

Though he’d tried to ignore it, for the most part, Nick had not been blind to the fact that Stephen had flirted with him over the years. In fact, Nick had even flirted back a time or two. But he’d drawn the line there, told himself for too many years that he couldn’t actually have Stephen, that the occasional flirting was just a bit of harmless fun.

But if his coma induced nightmare had been trying to tell him anything, it was that things could change in an instant, and to not let life pass you by while you stood on the sidelines. Or while you created distance between yourself and the thing, person, that you most wanted to share your life. Plus, he figured that Stephen wouldn’t punch him while he lay in a hospital bed, not after sitting by his side for two weeks, so Nick pushed.

“But did you mean it?”

Stephen huffed out a weary laugh and shook his head. He looked back at Nick. “You’re a pain in the ass, Cutter.”

Nick tried to smile, but he was suddenly so very tired. “Is that a yes?”

“I’m getting the doctor,” Stephen said, pulling the door open to match action to words. “But I’ll be back, so don’t go anywhere.”

When Stephen left the room, he didn’t look quite so drawn as he had when Nick woke, and the weary slump of his shoulders was gone. Nick let his eyes fall closed and smiled in response. He fell asleep feeling secure in the knowledge that, finally, all was right in his world.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Huge hugs to admiralandrea for checking my Brit-speak.


End file.
